


smile like you mean it.

by cherryvanilla



Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: M/M, Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-02-21
Updated: 2012-02-21
Packaged: 2017-10-31 12:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,692
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/344253
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryvanilla/pseuds/cherryvanilla
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jeff is playing like he has the wrath of God in him and he’s being hit left and right.</p>
            </blockquote>





	smile like you mean it.

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Zanzando](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Zanzando/gifts).



> This is based around the recent Habs/Canes game which featured crazily intense Jeff and Eric sticking up for his boy (as highlighted perfectly by Mike Milbury, I mean, really, who needs fic when he makes it so easy?). This is all zanzando's fault, who also provided great beta. Additional thanks to foxxcub. 
> 
> Also makes mention to [this awesome article](http://blogs.newsobserver.com/canes/staal-its-different-without-skinner).

It’s basically common knowledge amongst the team that Jeff and PK Subban have a kind of thing going on. Eric’s not exactly sure when it happened – could have been at the All-Star Game except he’d been too blinded by his own crush to notice anything else. He wasn’t surprised someone else might’ve fallen for him on that day; Jeff had been perfection – all smiles and giddiness and bright-eyed enthusiasm. He’d felt the stirrings of attraction well before that, couldn’t get the damn kid’s smile out of his head, but it honestly wasn’t until he was calling Jeff’s name and being ridiculously sentimental that he realized he had it bad. 

It didn’t matter though, for all the reasons it shouldn’t matter: he was too old, he was the captain, it would complicate things irreparably. Subban made more sense for Jeff. They’re closer in age, for one. Sometimes he’ll hear Jeff talking to him on the bus after an away game while the guys hoot and holler around him and Jeff just smiles cheerfully and gives them the finger. His mouth gets all soft in those moments, like Jeff has a secret smile reserved for Subban that no one else gets to see. It shouldn’t make Eric jealous as fuck. 

The end half of last season and the first half of the new one, Eric talks to Jeff as often as he can, tries to be the voice of leadership for him, while simultaneously trying to get over whatever it is he isn’t feeling. They have a good time together; and he makes Jeff laugh, plus he’ll never get enough of seeing that smile. If that makes him a masochist, so be it. 

___________________________

When Jeff suffers a concussion, everything between them sort of comes to a halt. Eric genuinely feels for the kid because it’s shitty for it to happen so young, but he selfishly misses having him around as well. He gives an interview to the press the week it happens, saying it’s weird without him around, how he’s usually his ‘ear in the morning, asking him what he’s had for dinner.’ He doesn’t tell them how Jeff just smiles brilliantly at him and says, ‘Pizza, you gonna tell on me?’ 

He’s pretty sure Subban comes down to see him over the holidays and okay, that’s Jeff’s boyfriend but Eric doesn’t have to be on board with it. The All-Star break feels weirdest of all, not only because he's not _there_ but because he's sure Jeff would’ve made the cut this year without having to be a replacement for someone else. At least Eric doesn't have to deal with Jeff's infectious laugh or smile on the ice during the skills competition. Instead, he stays home, and tries not to reply those memories from last year in his head or think about what Jeff and PK could be getting up to right now.

He’s completely surprised when, four games since Jeff’s return, there’s a knock on his door after their away game to the Islanders. Cam’s fucked off to god knows where and Eric’s already in his boxers and a t-shirt. Jeff blinks up at him with wide eyes, a little red at the edges. 

“Sorry, I just. Can I come in?” His voice sounds raw. He’s wearing jeans and a white t-shirt and Eric can only nod dumbly at him and step aside. Jeff runs his hand through his hair and looks around the room. 

“Thanks, wasn’t sure if Cam would be here.”

Eric closes the door and blinks a few times, having almost been asleep and still not convinced this isn’t a dream.

“Down at the bar, I think.”

Jeff turns and looks at him, nodding a little jerkily. He looks wound tight, like an elastic about to snap. “Hey, bar, that sounds perfect. Can I raid yours?”

Eric should say no; underage and all but the kid looks desperate and it’s all he can do but wave graciously in the direction of the mini-bar and say, “Help yourself.” 

He wants to ask what this is all about, is having trouble holding back the words. Instead, he sits on his bed while Jeff gathers up some small bottles and brings them back. They drink together, Jeff on Cam’s bed. 

Eric decides to make small talk about their overtime loss, about their next game, anything to break the silence. Jeff just hums and downs shot after shot until he finally looks up and says, “PK broke up with me.”

Eric feels the muscles tense in his neck and a jolt of surprise shoot down his spine. 

“Fuck, I’m sorry, man.”

Jeff smiles over at him, but it doesn’t reach his eyes and the dimples are nowhere to be found. “Yeah, well, I guess I had it coming.”

Eric frowns, because what does that even mean, but stays silent and waits to see if Jeff plans to say anything else. 

He doesn’t, and finally Eric flips on SportsCenter and they watch in companionable silence. 

Jeff says he should get going around midnight and is unsteady on his feet as he rises off the bed. Eric’s there in a second, arms looping around his waist while Jeff huffs out a breath against Eric’s shoulder. His own hands find the small of Eric’s back and he pulls back a little to gaze up at Eric, looking bleary-eyed and unfocused. 

“Hi Eric,” he slurs, voice bordering on giddy and he’s honestly the worst captain ever for not stopping him after the third bottle. 

“Hey,” he says softly and gives into the temptation of brushing Jeff’s hair off his forehead. “You gonna make it back to your room in one piece?”

“Mmm, sure,” he sighs around a moan, leaning into Eric’s touch. Eric pulls his hand back, suddenly aware of the proximity of their bodies and the stirring in his groin. Jeff’s smiling up at him and Eric’s so lost in the sight of it that he fails to register the shift in movement and the lips that are now on his neck, his jawline. 

“Jeff,” he grits out, fingers tightening instinctively on Jeff’s hips. The action just causes Jeff to groan and shift closer, pressing their bodies together as he nips softly at Eric’s chin.

“Come on,” Jeff encourages, his hand moving to the back of Eric’s neck, trying to tug him down. 

Heat surges through his body and for one brief moment he splays his hand low on Jeff’s back and seals their mouths together in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue, hot and lewd and as close to perfect as he’s ever felt. He gasps into it and feels Jeff’s own response, the drag of his hardening cock against Eric’s hip and that’s all it takes for him to pull back.

Jeff whines softly and Eric’s vision is hazy but he still manages to put a few inches between them, his hand straight-armed against Jeff’s chest, holding him off. “We can’t do this.”

Jeff bites his lip, his cheeks flush, and it looks as though his body is thrumming with an entirely different kind of energy now. 

“Please. I want to.”

Eric sighs and runs his fingers through his hair. “Your boyfriend just broke up with you. You’re drowning your sorrows. Just – sleep it off, okay, Jeff?”

Jeff looks chagrined and flash of humiliation passes across his face. 

He avoids Eric’s eyes. “I’m sorry. Fuck, I’m.” He wanders to the door, fumbling only a little. “Thanks,” he mutters and walks out without looking back.

Eric scrubs his palm over his face and lowers himself to the edge of the bed with a heavy sigh. He knows it was a dick move, putting it all on Jeff, not admitting that he does want this, just not this way, making Jeff feel like the guy who came onto someone as a rebound when Eric’s so hard right now he could probably come with one or two pulls on his dick. 

It was shitty, but it had to be done.

________________________

The next day, Jeff does his best to avoid him. The few times their eyes do meet, Jeff turns away, a slight blush tinting his cheeks. He decides to give him his space and a few days later, they’re joking in the locker room as always, Jeff looking at him gratefully, like Eric would need to forgive _him_. Something seizes tight in Eric’s chest but he pushes it away. It’s better this way. If the guys notice Jeff hasn’t been on the phone the last few days, they thankfully don’t say anything. 

Eric thinks they’re back to normal now. If the two of them catch each other’s eyes for a second too long during practice or in the locker room, Jeff usually breaking their gaze first, well, it’s no ones business but their own. Certainly no one needs to know that Eric is jerking off in the shower to the memory of that kiss and the press of Jeff’s body. 

It’s a few weeks later, they’ve just suffered two overtime loses in the past two nights, and Eric is frustrated as shit. Jeff sits down beside him, shoulder’s hunched, and he’s really not in the mood to give him a pep talk when he can’t even give himself one. 

“We play Montreal Monday,” is what Jeff says instead, voice low. And fuck, Eric didn’t even _realize_. 

He squeezes Jeff’s shoulder, wants it to be more, wants to give him everything, anything he needs. “It’ll be fine,” is all he says. 

Jeff chuckles, sardonically. “Hope you’re right.”  
___________________

It’s not fine. It’s so far from fine. Jeff is playing like he has the wrath of God in him and he’s being hit left and right. Every time Eric looks over it feels as though Jeff’s down on the ice. This only sets Jeff on edge even more. To be honest, Eric’s getting a little fucking fed up with the Canadiens and so maybe he delivers an elbow, even though he wasn’t particularly intending to. While sitting in the box, he realizes he wanted it to be a message. It’s a little fucked up, but he can’t help it sometimes; the ice can bring out the worst in him. 

The message doesn’t seem to get across with the Habs though, because Jeff is still generally run at whatever chance they get. Jeff, for his part, curses up a storm and starts an almost fight (Eric, cringing, can only imagine what was being said). Jeff is intense about the game on any given night; this is a whole different ball of wax. 

“Reel it in, kid,” he calls over to him from the ice after his second penalty, which caused a goal. Jeff doesn’t respond. 

Muller tells Eric to get on the wing with Jeff for the final face-off of the period and he’s glad for it because sure enough, Jeff is bumped about three times in a second, particularly by Subban. There’s a scuffle as the whistle blows and Eric gets to watch as Jeff hooks an arm around Subban’s neck to pull him away, which then leads to a shouting match, the two of them right in each other’s faces while Jeff yells, “What? Did you tell _everyone_ to run me, you fucking asshole?”

“Can’t handle it, Skinner? Maybe you should’ve stuck to figure skating, huh?” Subban shouts back. 

Eric intervenes while they scream at each other, pushing between the two of them and everyone else, skating Subban backward a little, and talking intently, without raising his voice. “Just stop. This is between you and Jeff, let’s leave it off the ice.”

Subban just smirks at him, “That’s funny, coming from you,” and before Eric can question that remark, he’s got to deal with a fiery Jeff who is once again, trying to start back in. They finally all separate and Jeff just curses to himself the entire way off the ice and says nothing to Eric until they’re in the locker room, breathing hard. Jeff walks over to him while Eric is re-lacing his skates. 

When Eric looks up, there’s a smile on his face, soft around the edges in a way Eric used to think he’d never seen before but now couldn’t be sure. 

“Thanks,” he says softly before walking back to his locker. Eric’s heart stutters in his chest and he nods to himself, letting his lips quirk up in a grin. 

They finish out the damn game, winning, and Eric considers it a victory for Jeff in his head, has felt protective in ways tonight that he never really thought he would. It extends so much further than being the captain, than these being his boys. His one thought the entire evening was: Jeff. They skate off the ice next to each other, after Jeff and Subban exchange some final words.

They have the next few days off and they’re staying over in Montreal as there’s no reason to rush back. Jeff ends up in the elevator with him, mostly everyone else begging off to the hotel bar. They sneak glances at each other and Eric shouldn’t be feeling like a teenager just because he’s in the proximity of one.

“Want to hang out in your room for a bit?” Jeff asks, and Eric can hear the tentativeness in his voice. Eric shouldn’t, should stop this again before it starts but his defenses are weakened when it comes to Jeff. His smile is kryptonite; it undoes Eric almost as much as his passion on the ice. His mouth is dry as he responds, “Okay.’

Once inside, they both shed their jackets and drape them over the desk chair. Eric gestures for him to have a seat while he grabs two bottles of water, pointedly avoiding alcohol. 

Jeff doesn’t sit though, just waits for Eric to cross over to him. Their fingers brush around the bottle and Jeff looks up at him, eyes clear and utterly gorgeous.

“I’m sorry for tonight. For letting it get personal.” 

Eric swallows hard and feels his fingers slip around the bottle in his hand. “It’s understandable. I get it.” 

Jeff shakes his head, eyes boring a hole into Eric. “You really don’t.”

Eric opens his mouth to interject but Jeff takes a step closer and that makes Eric’s synapses short out. 

“It was more about you. He knew I couldn’t stop thinking about you. We’d joked about it at first but, well, guess I talked about you one too many times,” he admits, averting his eyes now. “I’d told him I’d never do anything about it, that _you_ wouldn’t, but he finally had enough.”

Eric stares at him, lips parted, barely able to process this. Well, shit.

“Jeff, I’m--”

Jeff laughs to himself, a little meanly and looks up at him again. “After his first hit on me tonight, he said ‘Think your captain will care?’ He baited me all night, had _everyone_ bait me. It fucking drove me crazy.”

Jeff’s so close now that Eric can smell the shampoo in his hair, the smell of his soap, crisp and clean. He could reach out and touch his hair, his face.

“I’m sorry,” he says instead, voice a near whisper.

Jeff studies his face for a second. “Don’t be. Because fuck, Eric, you _did_.” 

And then Jeff is surging upward, hand on the back of Eric’s neck again like the first time, tugging him forward with hope in his eyes and Eric just falls, presses their mouths together chastely, just breathing together.

“Fuck yeah, I care,” he says against Jeff’s mouth, his tongue dragging across Jeff’s lower lip and sliding between. They kiss in the middle of the hotel room and then kiss on the bed, hands not wandering far, content to just sigh into one another’s mouths and laugh against each other’s lips while Eric drags his thumb over Jeff’s dimples and watches as his eyes go soft around the edges in way that reminds Eric of the brightest sunshine, too intense to stare at. Eric’s still not sure if this is a great idea but he’s realized his heart is stronger than his head. 

[end]


End file.
